


Slowly

by committed_quartz



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Buckley Parents are trash, Christopher is not okay, Eddie is just trying his best, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/committed_quartz/pseuds/committed_quartz
Summary: What happens when two people, yearning for a connection, find each other. Anonymously. Through an app.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Original Male Character(s), Past Eddie Diaz/Shannon Diaz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Slowly

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a fic I started working on months ago but only wrote a basic chapter of! Not sure if I’m ever gonna get around to adding more but thought I might as well put it out into the universe to see what people think!
> 
> Please heed the tags, they’re there for a reason! If you feel I’ve missed any, please feel free to let me know!
> 
> Just a heads up, it will probably be edited and more may be added to this chapter, if I ever decide to continue writing this.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own and I don’t own these characters!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Shannon has been gone for a while. 

Okay, so maybe three months isn’t that long in the grand scheme of life but the need for interaction of any kind that isn’t familial or work related makes Eddie’s chest ache. He needs more. Something that doesn’t involve pitying looks and a colourful array of insults aimed at Shannon and her decision to leave.

He needs to have a conversation with another adult who doesn’t know the ins and outs of every messed up situation he’s gotten himself into, and definitely not managed to get himself out of. 

That’s how he finds himself scrolling through his phone trying to find something to help with that.

What he doesn’t want is a dating app. 

He still has hope that Shannon will come back to him, back to Chris, and that they’ll be a family again. He just wants a friend, an anonymous friend, who has no expectations or preconceived ideas about him. Eddie’s well aware of what those are and he doesn’t want them. He wants a clean slate.

Whilst Christopher is his entire world, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, having a child is hard work. This means that the conventional instant messaging that most apps provide isn’t the most appealing. Eddie wants something that forgoes the inevitable anxiety that having to construct an interesting response to a message brings. He doesn’t want to have to guess the right amount of time between receiving said message and replying. He also wants to avoid trying to find the right balance between seeming uninterested in what the other person’s saying and too eager.

Almost ready to give up and resign himself to the fact that he’ll have to put up with having no human interaction until Shannon comes back, an app called Slowly catches his eye. The app is exactly what he’s looking for: a way to write letters without having to give a stranger his address, anonymous connections, and response times that are based on your distance from the other person.

It’s perfect. 

Eddie presses download and goes to make a coffee whilst he’s waiting. Starting the machine he glances at the clock, it’s 9pm and Chris is in bed, has been for a few hours since it’s a school day tomorrow. Eddie goes through a mental checklist, making sure he has all of Christopher’s things ready for the morning. When he’s satisfied that he’s already sorted everything out for the next day, he pours his coffee and makes his way back to the couch.

The profile sign up seems easy enough and after typing in his email Eddie’s onto creating his avatar and adding all of his extra information. The username is where he hits a snag. 

He doesn’t want to use his real name because that takes away all of the anonymity he spent 20 minutes scrolling through the app store for, so he needs to think. After a couple minutes of thinking, he gives up on creativity and decides to just pick whatever’s closest to him and add Christopher’s birth year onto the end.

That’s how he ends up being called lamp11.

Rolling his eyes at his unoriginality he moves on to select his interests. None of them really stand out to him except fitness and cars. Not wanting to sound like a complete douche he also selects reading, DIY and gardening. 

(He tells himself that he did help with Christopher’s school planters and it most definitely does count.)

With his profile saved, Eddie begins scrolling through the possible matches when he hears a muffled voice come from down the hall.

‘Dad! Mommy!’ Eddie’s heart breaks hearing Christopher’s tiny, sleep muddled voice call out for Shannon. As much as he wants her to come back for himself, he needs her to come back for Chris. Eddie jumps up from the couch to go and console his son, his phone and cold coffee left on the table.

*

New York City is not an easy place to navigate.

Sure, there’s google maps or an actual store bought version but Buck is more of a ‘I’ll get there when I get there’ kind of guy. 

That’s what he tells his newest manager when he arrives at the dimly lit record store late. Again. The second time this week and it’s only Wednesday. He receives the usual grilling about how he’s only here because he knows the owner's son Aston, from the last time he passed through and if he’s late again he’ll be fired, no matter his connections.

He’s not sure how long he’ll be staying this time around. It’s hard to sleep in your car in New York so he’s having to share an apartment. The place is nice enough and the commute, though confusing, isn’t terribly long. A month or two sounds reasonable. 

Buck walks through to the back room, takes off his jacket and hangs it over one of the three arm chairs scattered around the place. One of the other guys who works at the shop passes him, giving him a nod and a smile, as he makes his way over to the small kitchen area in the back corner of the room. He grabs a mug from a cupboard that’s filled with a mix-match of different logos and puns, sets it into the coffee machine and waits for it to fill up. 

He looks around at the many pin boards on the walls, covered in posters from local bands and notes from employees. There are definitely worse environments to work in. Buck knows that and counts himself lucky to have somewhat landed on his feet.

With his coffee in hand, Buck makes his way back to the front of the store. He sees only a couple of people browsing and feels glad that it looks like it’s going to be a quiet day. 

Buck was right and the more the day wears on, the less glad he feels about it. 

In the three hours he’s been here he has served four people. The most exciting thing that’s happened was a stoned guy coming in and accidentally knocking a few records off of the shelf.

He’s spent most of his time scrolling through social media trying to find something to entertain himself. He hasn’t succeeded yet. That is until a tweet comes up on his feed. It talks about an app called Slowly and it seems to be gaining a lot of attention. It seems like quite a convenient way to connect with people from all over the world. 

As much as Buck loves to travel, he’s lacking a consistent connection. His parents are a topic he doesn’t like to think about often and he hasn’t spoken to his sister Maddie in a long while. Sure he has friends, but he only speaks to them when he’s on his way to where they are and needs a job or a place to stay when his car won’t suffice.

Did that even count as a friend?

Buck nods, as if trying to convince himself.

The store was empty now aside from him so he decides to give the app a chance. Buck presses download and waits for it to install. 

Signing up is no bother and after spending three minutes clicking on every hair option for his avatar he finally decides on one. Picking his username is easy enough too and he types it in.

He spends far too long looking at all of the options for interests and selects quite a few. Gardening and fitness being two that stand out to him the most. Most people Buck has met have been surprised to find out about his love of gardening. The main reason being that he doesn’t actually own a garden because of all of the moving around he does. 

He remembers the time he spent in Nevada and the people he met there. One of them being a woman who owned the local flower shop he had worked at for three months. It was one of the nicest jobs Buck had over the years and he had learnt a lot by being there. Mostly about himself. 

Growing up he’d never been allowed pets, or really anything that required care and attention. His father wasn’t the affectionate type and his mother was just as cold so any form of affection was discouraged, especially when it came to Buck. Years later he had been told by Maddie that he was a loving toddler, always looking for cuddles and praise where there wasn’t any. But as he grew older that loving nature was pushed down to make room for the kind of man his parents wanted him to be. A man who would one day be ready to become the CEO of Mr Buckley’s finance company and lead it the way he had. 

After dropping out of college, much to his parents’ disappointment, Nevada was his first stop. The small town was quiet yet cosy, something Buck wasn’t all that familiar with. 

The money he’d saved from working at a college bar had gone towards a small, rundown car that he needed, after giving his parents back the one they’d given him when he’d been accepted onto their dream college course. His new vehicle had been good enough to sleep in but had left Buck with only enough money to live for a week or two. With that in mind, he’d grabbed a local newspaper almost as soon as he’d arrived and began looking for job vacancies straight away. He was going to make this work.

And it did. 

For a while.

He found the flower shop and settled in almost immediately, getting to know everyone in town. Mrs Massey who owned the store was a caring woman, someone who was passionate about what she loved and took the time to listen to Buck and teach him everything she knew. It was what he had been missing in his younger years and had craved ever since.

After working there for two weeks, she presented him with the keys to the vacant apartment above the store, said it had been empty since her son had moved away to start his own family and that she hadn’t found the right person to look after it for her. Buck had been taken aback by the trust she had in him after so little time and bundled her into a hug, tears threatening to spill onto her shoulder. 

The place wasn’t much to look at, it was more or less a studio. An open living space and kitchen with a bedroom at the back, sectioned off by a bookcase which was filled with plant pots and dozens of books. There was a small bathroom on the right as you walked in, which was also home to various wall mounted planters. 

Buck’s favourite part of the place was the small balcony that was joined to the living area by large, sliding, glass doors. A glass-top table sat on the right hand side, big enough to fit two brown wicker chairs under it. The rails surrounding it were black with fancy patterns along the top, the perfect height to see the high street over, if you were to sit in one of the chairs. Planters of all sizes ran along the perimeter of the balcony, empty but in perfect condition, ready for new life. A small metal watering can sat abandoned on the table, along with one gardening glove. 

Buck remembers going down to the store and gathering up various seed packets, not really knowing what would be best but determined to bring some life back into the space.

He set to work and within a couple of hours every single pot had something planted in it. Buck wasn’t one hundred percent sure what everything he planted would look like but was reluctant to search for pictures online, wanting the element and joy of surprise as the first buds bloomed.

A couple of weeks passed and Buck had been able to experience said joy, not only from raising flowers that were now starting to bloom, but by meeting someone.

It was a Monday which meant most people in town were either at work or school and that was no different for Buck. 

It had been a slow day. 

Mr Wharton arrived at 10am for his weekly pick up: a dozen sunflowers, tied together with a pearl ribbon and a little note that he had handwritten. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of him so Buck asked who the flowers were for. Mr Wharton smiled slightly, telling him that they were for his wife of thirty six years. Buck couldn’t even begin to fathom being loved for that amount of time, or any really. 

Then Noah arrived.

He was Mrs Massey’s grandson, had the same kind eyes and sweet words. He made his way into Buck’s heart and made a home there, gave him hope for a future where he could be truly happy.

They spent their nights together tangled up in Buck’s sheets, sat out on the balcony and sneaking around town hand-in-hand. 

Buck didn’t mind the sneaking, had almost perfected it after years of living with his parents. He’d take anything Noah had to give him, no matter how little it seemed. 

Small glances throughout the day, when he came to visit the shop, seemed to put Noah on edge. He’d held Buck’s hand in his one night and explained that when he was in high school one of the older kids had seen him holding hands with another boy. It had ended in heartbreak and with the other boy having to move away. Noah admitted that when the boy had left, he tried his best to show everyone that he was straight, overcompensating in every way possible. Buck could empathise, he was the poster boy for overcompensation which he was trying his best to rectify. Noah admitted that he wanted to be more open with himself and his small hometown so Buck squeezed his hands, promising to be there in any way he needed.

Their park dates at night, and spending most of their time together in the apartment above the flower shop slowly turned into lunches at the local cafe and picnics on the beach.

One of those picnics ended any hope Buck had of building a life in the small town.

The drunk yelling was the first thing that Buck noticed, making him tear his eyes away from Noah’s smile. He barely had enough time to get to his knees before the first blow landed, knocking him backwards. He scrambled for purchase in the sand trying to haul himself up when the second and third hits pushed him down again.

It wasn’t the searing pain in his ribs or the dull ache in his head that he remembers most. 

It was the screaming. 

The agonised yells coming from Noah as he tried to protect his head are what remains ingrained in Buck’s mind to this day. 

The minutes after the men left were filled with only the sound of the sea lapping against the shore. Buck was unable to do more than turn his head to where Noah lay on the sand, too far away for him to reach and still in the fetal position. Buck struggled to keep his eyes open but was determined to stay focussed on Noah’s body, looking for any sign of life. 

Neither him nor the paramedics that arrived sometime later found any. 

Despite the nature of the attack and the loss of life, there wasn’t much of an investigation. No one came forward with any information and the police didn’t seem all that concerned with finding the murderers of a gay man. 

It took a week for Buck to be well enough to drive again and he knew he had to go. The plans he and Noah had started to make seemed so ludicrous now Buck was without him.

Mrs Massey knew not to try and convince him to stay. She just smiled sadly when he handed her the keys to the apartment, tears in his eyes. She pulled him into a hug and gave him a squeeze, her hand holding onto his as they pulled back. He remembers the small plant pot she’d placed into his palm, telling him to look after it and himself.

He promised to keep it alive. 

And he has.

It has been kept in his car, being taken to every place Buck finds himself in. At this moment it’s sat on his backseat, alive and well.

Blinking away tears that the memories bring him, Buck finishes off his profile and starts looking through his matches. He doesn’t want to overwhelm himself with too many people to talk to at first so decides to just focus on one. While he does want to connect with someone, he’s reluctant to message someone who has a name in their username. He likes the idea of anonymity for the time being and doesn’t want to risk sounding like a creep when he has to explain that he doesn’t want to tell them his.

Lamp11 might just be the most ridiculously endearing username that Buck has come across and his curiosity to know it’s origin is what makes him click on their profile. The letter should take 6 hours to send to lamp11 so Buck has a while to wait before he may or may not get a reply. 

Gardening and fitness are also listed in their interests so Buck figures that those are a good place to start.

He opens up a new letter and starts typing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [committedquartz](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/committedquartz)


End file.
